


Running out of Time

by Samille



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samille/pseuds/Samille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was an entry for the TFLN challenge thing. I used the "I need to stop agreeing to hang out with people when I'm drunk" prompt. Basically Bitty get's a little turnt and Shitty convinces him to tell Jack how he feels and everything takes a weird turn from there. </p><p>I'd like to thank Jenny thistidalwave for BETA reading this as I have written good portions of this while exhausted. I hope ya'll like this :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running out of Time

TFLN prompt: "I need to stop agreeing to hang out with people when I'm drunk." 

Jack pulls his headphones out, stares at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, and lets out a sigh. Even with his door closed and his music on much louder than he would generally allow, the noise from the party downstairs still manages to find its way through his walls. 

The boys have just finished their last finals, so it was no wonder that they’ve insisted on holding a party of epic proportions to celebrate their freedom from “this fire breathing hell-pit of a school”, as Shitty so eloquently put it. Then, when they found out that Jack had officially signed, the party became a “Jack Zimmermann is the fucking best” party. However, Jack still has this one last paper to write, but even if he could concentrate on the historical value of coffee, he wouldn’t want to. 

So instead of thinking of a better thesis statement, he decides to head downstairs to see if he can find any of that apple and maple pie Bittle had made around lunch time left over. 

He manages to navigate around the couples making out against the walls of his hallway and is almost down the last of the stairs when Shitty’s head pops out from inside the wall of people waiting in line to play flip cup against Lardo.

“Bro!” Shitty says with an incredible amount of enthusiasm and a bit of beer foam in his ‘stache. “It’s the man of the hour himself! This calls for another toast!” This might seem like a kind gesture, except for the fact that Shitty likes to make a toast every 10 minutes. So while Shitty struggles to crawl on top of the coffee table, Jack makes his way into the kitchen, where he finds Bittle sitting on top of the counter and handing out slices of pie to a small group of people that have made their way into the kitchen searching for the source of the sweet cinnamon scent coming from Betsy’s - now open - mouth. 

“Um, Bittle,” Jack starts as he pushes his way towards the oven so he can shut the door. “Do you have any of that apple and maple pie left?” 

The crowd around Eric has made the air around them seem tight and warm, and everything smells like beer and pie. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he says without looking up. He hands the last piece to a small girl with short curls and what look like tear tracks on her cheeks, and then looks up to see Jack watching him from less than a foot away. 

“Oh, Jack!” His eyes widen and his cheeks flush. “I thought you were a guest! I’m sure I can find some left in the back of the fridge.” Jack watches as Bittle tries to scramble off the counter, losing his balance and falling forward, away from Jack. He reaches out to quickly grab him around the waist, keepinghim from slamming his face into the corner of the counter’s edge. 

Bittle, who is clearly completely trashed, continues to try and take another step forward with Jack’s hands still secured around his waist. He manages to move about an inch before stumbling backwards against Jack’s chest. 

“Fuck, Bittle,” Jack says into the back of Eric’s head. “How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

Bittle stops squirming for a moment to think. “I don’t know, Mr. Zimmermann.” He’s giggling now. “How much have you had to drink tonight?” 

“Nothing at all, but by the looks of it, you’ve drank enough for the both of us. Maybe you should get some rest.” Jack decides that it’s best for everyone if he leads Bittle upstairs and into bed before he can do any actual damage to himself or any kitchen appliances. 

“C’mon,” Eric’s words are slurred as he pulls on the sleeves of Jack’s shirt. “You don’t have to put me to sleep, Jack. I’m not a baby, I can handle myself just fine.” But even as he says it, he lets out a small hiccup and falls into a giggling fit. 

“Sure, you can.” A little smile plays on Jack’s lips. “But you’ll be thanking me in the morning when you don’t wake up in a pool of blood and a broken mixer. Goodnight, Bittle.” He turns to close the door and head back to his bed. He thinks maybe it’s for the best if they both get some rest. After all, it’s a Saturday night. His essay can wait until morning. 

***

His alarm clock reads 2:30 AM when Jack hears someone enter his room, which means he’s only been asleep for about an hour.

“va-t'en,” he grumbles into his pillow.

“You know I don’t speak French, Jack.” The voice is Bittle’s, and if the slurring is any indication, he is just as sloshed as he was an hour ago.

“I thought you went to sleep, Bits,” Jack complains with his face still buried in his pillow. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Eric says. “Shitty came to talk to me and reminded me that my time is running up.” His voice breaks a little, and Jack wonders what could make him so sad about a conversation with a drunk Shitty. 

“Your time for what?” Jack asks, but Bitty continues on like he hasn’t heard him at all. 

“I know I should’ve either told ya a long time ago when you had time to think it over, or I should’ve just decided to keep it to myself forever, but Shitty said that would be very very wrong of me and I could never-” 

“Bittle!” Jack interrupts him. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’re leaving,” he says. It sounds so quiet and sad that Jack barely hears him at all. Jack sits up in his bed and looks at Eric. He’s standing across the room, playing with the strings of his hoodie. Jack’s not sure if it’s just the alcohol or if he’s really this upset by him leaving, but he looks so traumatized that he can’t just let him stand there and continue to stare at the floorboards. 

“Um, you wanna sit down?” he asks, patting the spot on the bed beside him. Bittle looks even more startled by this, and Jack’s just about to take it back and tell him he doesn’t have to when he crosses the room to finally plop down next to him. 

“I always knew you were gonna leave, but now with the contract, everything seems so soon.” Eric’s still not looking at him, but at least now his sentences are slower and more controlled. 

“I still don’t understand,” Jack says slowly. “What did Shitty say to you after I went to sleep that upset you so much?” Jack knows Shitty, and while Shitty says a lot of stuff, he can’t imagine that he would ever say something that would hurt Bittle’s feelings like this. 

Bitty blushes bright red and turns his head away from Jack’s concerned face. 

“He says I have to tell you how I feel about you before you leave. Something about how unresolved pining from all parties causes a strain on him. I don’t even know what that means, but he says that if I don’t tell you I like you before you leave, he’s gonna-”

“Bittle!” Jack interrupts him for the second time that night to keep him from drunkenly rambling on. “You’re speaking way too quickly. Slow down, take a breath, maybe you should wait to tell me whatever you need to say when you’re sober.” 

“I can’t. Shitty’s right, if I don’t say anything now, I won’t ever have the chance.” He stops to take a long breath, but he still doesn’t look at Jack. “Jack, I think you’re really incredible and wonderful, and I know you have none of these feelings for me, but I have very strong feelings for you and I think it’s only fair if you know that I think you’re so beautiful and amazing.” He stops rambling for a moment to look up at Jack, who is staring at him with his mouth hanging slightly agape.

“Oh, Bits,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I think you’re very very drunk, and you don’t mean any of that. You should most definitely go to sleep now.” 

“I’m not that drunk,” he protests, “I just really think-”

“Bittle!” Jack interrupts. “Just-please just go.” Eric opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but thinks better of it and snaps it shut. 

He leaves so quickly that the air around Jack seems to go cold as though he was feeling the loss of Bittle’s touch. 

Jack pushes his hands against his eyes and tries to stop the threatening tears. It hasn’t been like this since Kent, but the fire that raged in his stomach and chest still burns as if it was never blown out. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this anymore. He was supposed to be stronger, more capable than before. But now, all he wants is for it all to stop, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the sound of his breathing.

***

The next morning, Bittle doesn’t come down to make breakfast, so the boys trudge down to the dining hall in the rain. Shitty pulls up a chair next to Jack and ruffles Chowder’s hair. 

“Have you seen Bits this morning? I didn’t even see him brushing his teeth or anything. Must be one hell of a hangover,” he says while shoving his cereal into his mouth. 

“Yeah, must be,” Jack mumbles. He knows Shitty is probably right and that it’s very unlikely Eric is at all upset because of their late night conversation, but he can’t help but worry about it. The nerves sit in his stomach for the next hour, and when he looks around to see everyone getting up, he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all. 

Holster claps him on the shoulder as he finishes throwing his bowl away. “Yo, Jack, we’re gonna go by that new park and play some Extreme Ultimate Frisbee.”

“It’s more extreme than regular ultimate because it’s in the rain,” Ransom chimes in. “You coming?” 

“Um, actually, I think I’m gonna swing back by the house and check on Bittle.” 

Ransom and Holster smirk at each other, but neither of them argue with him. 

***

By the time Jack gets back to the Haus, the rain is coming down in sheets and the thunder is rattling the windows and floorboards. He stops outside of Eric’s door, trying to work up the courage to knock. When he finally does, he’s met with silence. He thinks for a minute about just leaving to keep from invading Bittle’s privacy, but the heavy feeling in his gut eventually wins. So he takes a deep breath and cracks the door open just enough to let a tiny bit of light from the hallway leak into the completely dark room. He pokes his head in and quickly scans the room for Bittle, finding what looks like an Eric-shaped lump nestled under the blankets. 

“Bittle?” Jack whispers in the direction of the lump. 

“Who’s there?” he grumbles in response. 

“It’s uh- it’s Jack.” Eric’s whole body goes rigid. Shit. This is why he didn’t come to breakfast. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure your hangover’s not too bad, ya know?” It’s obviously not the whole truth, but Jack thinks it will have to do for the moment. 

Eric lets out a short laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s why you’re here. I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with me being a complete idiot.” He sounds light, but he still hasn’t moved out from under the blankets. “I need to stop agreeing to hang out with people when I’m drunk, I share way too much.”

Oh, Jack thinks. So he wasn’t just saying those things because he was drunk, he really did have feelings for Jack. 

Shit. 

Jack moves over to the bed in the corner of the room and sits down against the Bittle-lump, causing it to shift. They sit in silence for a few moments before a patch of blond hair pops out from beneath the covers followed by a pair of wide eyes. 

“Jack, what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“Um, about what?” Bitty’s brows are furrowed in confusion.

“How to say exactly what I need to say.” And then. “Because you were right last night, about running out of time. Shitty’s been nagging me about it forever but I kept telling him there was no way I could just tell you because you obviously didn’t feel the same about me. I mean, I take you out to coffee all the time, and there was the whole frozen yogurt thing, and you’ve never even hinted-” 

He stops to take a short breath while Bitty sits up so that he can properly look at Jack, who seems to be getting more flustered by the second.

“I just wanted you to be able to keep your distance if you wanted, and I thought I could respect that.” He turns to look directly into Bitty’s eyes. “But then you came to me last night and said all those things, and I wanted to believe you so badly, but I knew you were so drunk. Fuck, I thought Shitty must have drunkenly convinced you to say those things or something.” He looks so stressed and sad, Bitty can’t help but reach his hand out towards him. 

“Well, if it counts for anything,” Bittle says with a little smile, “I meant all of those things, even if I can’t remember everything I said. And I didn’t make a move before because I had no idea you liked me more than a friend because, well, look at you! You’re so incredible and wonderful and...straight? Well, at least I thought so until Epikegster.” He goes back to looking down at his hands. 

Jack just looks at him for a minute and then leans down to brush his lips across Bitty’s forehead. 

“Look at you,” he says. “You have the most kissable face. I thought I would never get to kiss it.” As if to prove his point, he leans down and plants another kiss, this time on Bitty’s lips. 

After a quick minute, Bitty backs away and rests his head on Jack’s shoulder. 

“I had a dream like this once,” Jack says. “You were just in my room studying, and you passed out on my shoulder and when you woke up later you asked me to kiss you.” He pauses for a moment. “I was so angry when I woke up. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep with you, but you were across the hall in your own bed, and I thought I was never going to get that.”

“Mr. Zimmermann, are you trying to tell me this is your dream come true?” Bitty teases. “Because if you are, that is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard, and I might just have to get up and find somebody else to cuddle.” 

Jack lets out a laugh and tightens his arms around Bitty. “No, I don’t think you’re going anywhere. You might just have to put up with me.”

***

When Jack wakes up, he finds Bitty completely sprawled against his chest with one arm up the back of his shirt. He looks at his alarm clock which reads 10:14 AM, and groans inwardly at how late he’s slept. Shitty, who is brushing his teeth in their shared bathroom, notices Jack’s consciousness and pokes his head in. 

“If that isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know what is.” 

Shitty is honestly the worst. 

“Shut up, Shits.” Jack whispers with a glare that could freeze the whole Haus. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Jack. You know I helped everything work out for the better.” He spits the last of his toothpaste into the sink and wanders over towards Jack. “I couldn’t stand watching you take him on dates that he had no idea were dates anymore, honestly.” 

Bitty stirs a little and Jack’s eyes snap down at him in a bit of panic. “What if he really didn’t mean those things? What if he wakes up and is mortified and never wants to see me again?” 

Shitty laughs for a minute before patting Jack’s head like a small child. “I can’t even believe you would think that, bro. Bittsy here adores you and no matter what you guys said last night, I can guarantee he’s gonna be pleased as fucking punch with the results when he wakes up. So please, for the love of his pies, please stop stressing.” 

As if on queue, Bitty’s eyes start to open with the flutter of lashes on Jack’s skin. 

“What in the name of-” he sits up fast, tangling himself in the blankets around him. 

Shitty laughs again and Jack wants to swat him across the nose. 

“Chill out, Bits. I just managed to get you to wake up in bed with a hockey god, everything’s fine.” He says with a stupid coy smile. He winks at Jack and walks back through the bathroom, closing the door as he goes. 

Jack takes a deep breath. “Breakfast?” He asks. 

“Breakfast.” Bitty says, and if his smile had been any brighter, Jack thinks his heart would have exploded right there. 

“How about a run first?” Jack asks with a laugh.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, how dare you.” Bitty says with an exaggerated frown.

“No? Well I guess you’ll have to find your workout for the day somewhere else, won’t you.” He smirks and Bitty blushes. Yeah, he’s definitely glad Shitty didn’t let them run out of time.


End file.
